


coffee cups and candy canes

by Siera_Writes



Series: when the last of that river has passed [1]
Category: Hat Films - Fandom
Genre: Domesticity, Fluff, Intimacy, M/M, Multi, UMY Secret Santa 2015, gargoyle!Ross, kelpie!smith, selkie!Trott, umy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-08 18:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5509163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siera_Writes/pseuds/Siera_Writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trott tutted, looping a dark grey cable-knit scarf around his neck and looking humourlessly into the mirror in front of him, adjusting the thick material to sit just right, able to clearly hear Smith whinging from upstairs. Ross was still attempting to cajole him in muted tones, while the kelpie continued his almost amusingly damsel-like languish in their bed, covers strewn haphazard over him, deliberately risqué. Trott had given up the Herculean task of getting Smith out of bed, in favour of getting ready to leave, knowing as soon as he, Sips, and Ross, seemed as though they were leaving, Smith would very quickly follow. He was like a child, sometimes. An infuriatingly tall, extraordinarily rebellious, child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	coffee cups and candy canes

**Author's Note:**

> You know, this wasn't supposed to happen. I saw the UMY secret santa, and thought it was lovely, but that I'd have absolutely no time to participate. About a week ago, I then made a post on tumblr, complaining, as is typical of me, about how much I wanted to take part, but wasn't sure if I could. And then, through a strange series of events, Bee saw this post after someone had to drop out. And now I step in.
> 
> So, my first proper addition to this wonderful au. I hope it's at least a little bit along the lines of what you wanted, Three. Merry Christmas to you, and everyone reading.

Trott tutted, looping a dark grey cable-knit scarf around his neck and looking humourlessly into the mirror in front of him, adjusting the thick material to sit just right, able to clearly hear Smith whinging from upstairs. Ross was still attempting to cajole him in muted tones, while the kelpie continued his almost amusingly damsel-like languish in their bed, covers strewn haphazard over him, deliberately risqué. Trott had given up the Herculean task of getting Smith out of bed, in favour of getting ready to leave, knowing as soon as he, Sips, and Ross, seemed as though they were leaving, Smith would very quickly follow. He was like a child, sometimes. An infuriatingly tall, extraordinarily rebellious, child.

Satisfied that the scarf rested well enough across his shoulders, Trott reached out to lift his gloves from the top of the dresser they had in the hallway, its colour rich and like honey. He pulled them on, flexing each hand in turn and hearing the creak of the supple leather. He liked those gloves. He heard a sigh from behind him, and flicked his eyes up to meet Sips' in the mirror. He was wearing a jumper only he could pull off - ostentatious colours and tasteless design, and somehow, it worked. His customary baseball cap was perched on his head, the little embroidered crown glimmering subtly. Sips looked back at him sardonically, and it was all the cue Trott needed. They'd been ready to go for five minutes, and had been on to Smith for the last twenty before that to start getting ready at all. 

"Ross, ready to go?" Trott cast his voice, pressing forwards to the dresser to allow Sips to scoot past him in the narrow hallway, the taller man lightly touching his hands to the selkie's hips in voiceless thanks, as he headed towards the door. He shot Sips a wry little smile upon hearing the more pitiful noises emanating from Smith as the gargoyle stood from the mattress - its springs creaking in relief - and sauntered to the stairs and down them. Ross wore his typical hoodie, tee, and jeans, tail whipping left and right alternately with each stair he descended. His sleeves were overly long, just as Ross liked. He never dressed properly for the cold, it not affecting him as much as the others, even after having let himself soften from stone to skin, allowed his flesh to warm. He smiled at Trott with that breathtaking sincerity he always seemed to have, and Trott's stomach lurched. He had to clamp down on the grin which threatened to bubble up from the centre of his chest, and to span his lips, instead tempering it to something small, but genuine.

Ross seated himself at the foot of the stairs to pull on a pair of hi-tops, tying the laces methodically. Trott smiled fondly at the supreme focus marked on the gargoyle's features by furrowed brows and a slight pout, following his movements as he practically bounced back up onto his toes, enthusiasm emanating and heady. The selkie inclined his head in indication towards Sips with a quick jerk, flicking his eyebrow up at the same time. Ross trotted to him, past him, and over to Sips, horns glinting as the brilliant, harsh winter's light streaming in an angled beam through the glass set in the door hit them. For a moment, light splintered and scattered in differing blues from the facets of the stained glass, the walls bathed in an aquatic display.

A sliver of time, and it was gone. Sips laughed, loud and unrestrained, Ross smiling cheekily after some quiet quip about some obscure thing they were wont to talk about, and Trott could hear Smith hopping to hurriedly clamber into jeans, a plain tee. At the top of the stairs, Smith ducked down to check they were still there, hair an unruly mop. He had one arm in his customary leather jacket, his hardwearing boots dangling by their laces from his free hand, while he clattered down to them. Trott just looked down to his own feet, hands clasped in front of him, smirking and not hiding it, more to rile Smith than actually being amused, and he tugged at the hem of his jacket so it wasn't rucked up.

"Aww, come on Smiffy." Trott definitely didn't bite back his sharp bearing of teeth at Sips' voice, keeping his gaze directed to the ground. He could still see Smith from the corner of his eye; the stall in lacing up his boots, him sitting up straight and puffing out his chest indignantly. He could feel Smith bristling, mouth opening and about to retort, but Sips was still talking. "Ya know, for a horse you're pretty damn slow."

Ross chuckled as Smith glowered, finishing doing up his laces with rough motions. When the kelpie was near enough, Trott lightly traced the backs of his knuckles against the other man's flat stomach, knowing Smith's need to have the last word, and wanting to stop him while he was ahead. The auburn haired man reached unconsciously towards his pocket to touch at his keys, and Trott heard the clinking of them, muted by the material they were ensconced in. The lines of Smith's shoulders relaxed, a minute, instant subtlety which the selkie had required many years to learn to parse from his breaths. 

"Alright, sunshine?" Trott spoke lowly, knowing the pride of the man. He was answered with a wide, feral grin, just enough to see the dangerous glint to the teeth. It was enough of a yes.

Sips opened the door, and more light flooded in, harsh and brilliant, reflecting from the thin, perfect icing of snow on the ground. On the road, it was kicked into sprays of slush, browned with dirt and containing flecks of gravel. Still, Trott loved it when the weather was like this. He breathed in heavily, feeling the cold at the back of his nose. The cold was spun as a metallic tang in the air. The snow crunched deliciously beneath his boots, and he was glad he'd dressed warm. He was still warm-blooded, unlike Smith, whose previous residencies in cold, freshwater in gorges and fens had afforded him a little more imperviousness in that regard. He exhaled, watching as the moisture spiralled up and away.

The sun was made watery by a thin coating of mist at the far horizons, still bright, but it created a flatness to the city. Buildings far enough away were reduced to planes and colour blocks, looking like charcoal on an off-white canvas. Snow was a threat in yellowed clouds ahead of them, a distance enough away that the heavy precipitation beneath them made curling trails at their bases, carried by the wind. Ross fell into step with Trott, looping his tail almost shyly around the selkie's waist. Trott made sure his left arm brushed the sapphire appendage in voiceless acknowledgement, and proffered his other hand to Ross. The gargoyle took it, smile gentle, head bowed.

Behind them, they could hear Smith's wheezy laughter, they type he got where he almost couldn't speak, voice pitched high and occluded by desperate gulps for breath. Sips roared at the Kelpie in good-natured exasperation, and there was the sound of soft impacts, undoubtedly snowballs. Trott grinned, as did Ross, turning in tandem to look over their shoulders in time to see Smith attempting to pluck the cap from Sips' head. Expletives abounded.

Their intended destination was only a short walk away - a chain coffee shop - because capitalism was cruel and its workers were expected to work even on Christmas Day. Ross would have much preferred their usual spot, but the small artisanal place had been warning for a few days leading up that it wouldn't be open. Christmas was more of a thing for Sips, and Ross, the vast proportion of their lives steeped in the Church and its traditions. And even if Sips tried to make it seem like he cared less about things than even they did - well, who would that fool. They all cared too much, like it or not. They couldn't pretend otherwise anymore. 

Trees lined a short portion of an avenue they walked down. They glimmered in the sun, edges of bark and the few stubborn brown leaves still clinging to gnarled branches embellished with tiny, crystalline fractals of frost. The air was funnelled down the street, and Trott felt his fringe being lifted and dropped, lightly at first, but growing stronger as time went on. Maybe they'd be shut in for the next few days. With the weather, who knew. He could tell Ross' eyes were on him as he thought this. The gargoyle was observant, with painstaking eye for detail. Perhaps it was a quality passed from his makers to him. Ross' tail tightened its coil, just slightly, not knowing quite what the brunet was thinking, but being sensitive to mood, to posture. He tapped the arrow-headed barb, and the gargoyle reluctantly released him wholly. They were there. A few flakes were hastily carted by the eddies at the shop front. The sky above was brooding, a sudden ragged-edged cloud hovering low and dark and grey. The light was strange.

The door was wide, heavy, almost wholly glass; it was obviously more for looks than utility. The heat inside was a warmth Trott approved of, but knew he'd find oppressive given enough time. His attention was caught by Smith and Sips arriving at the door, walking past the shop front with the kelpie practically draped over the other man. Trott shook his head, rolled his eyes and tutted fondly. They sobered when they entered the threshold, Sips eyes still sparkling with mirth. 

Trott eyed the upholstery, the flooring, with a critical eye. Its attempts to seem wholesome and organic were ruined by the fact Trott had seen the exact same a couple of blocks over. No matter. He was here for caffeine and sweetness on his tongue. The barista behind the counter looked drawn, bored. There was one other customer, and the place was quiet but for Christmas music coming from speakers set cleverly about the place as though to suggest an immersion that Trott didn't feel. 

He almost jumped at the sharp prod he felt between two ribs suppressing the instinct to wheel around and blindly strike. He swiftly twisted around to glare at the perpetrator instead, but was met by Sips standing a tad too close with an apologetic look. The taller man flicked his eyes to the barista, and back to the selkie, voice lowered but not quite at a whisper. "Look, I know you don't like it, but you could lay off the death glare..." He hadn't even realised. The brunet relaxed his brows consciously. The man behind the counter was eying them curiously. He knew they weren't dressed right for the weather.

Trott stepped forward, turning on the charm. Smith was probably making eyes at the man. He was tall enough - about six-one, six-two - and good-looking, with dark hair and olive skin. His eyes were dark, but the skin beneath them sallow. Trott tilted his head while pulling himself away from trying to calculate the man's life and troubles. "One mocha, one gingerbread latte, ah..." He turned to the Kelpie, who mouthed 'mocha' back to him, before going back to staring surreptitiously at the tired man. "Make that two mochas, and an americano, please. Milk, no sugar." He smiled, charming as he could make it. He knew his teeth were showing, just slightly too sharp. He didn't mind his glamour slipping if it was just a little.

He walked over to Sips, standing quietly by him while Ross and Smith giggled over who knew what. More flakes were falling outside; there was still only a smattering, pauses random between handfuls, but they were wide and fluffy, joining the thin layer already on the pavements. Sips was watching through the window dourly, unsettlingly serious. He might talk with Sips about it later.

They collected their drinks, Trott pausing in handing over tattered bills when he heard a soft noise from Ross. The gargoyle was holding up a candy cane. It was white, striped with blood red spirals. The look Trott received from him could only be described as puppyish. He nodded at the barista, handing over more money to make up the difference. 

Before they exited, Ross held out the sweet to him. Trott acquiesced, nibbled a bit from the end. The candy was saccharine and flavoured peppermint, breaking easily under his teeth into flecks and splinters, sticky between his molars. It was nice, contrasting with the warmth of his mocha. Ross gulped his ginger concoction, the temperature not a problem for him. Trott moved his teeth apart and together idly, feeling the tack of the sweet on his teeth. Opening the door allowed a few snowflakes to flutter past, more regular now. 

The wind was stronger, and Trott pulled at the zipper of his coat and pressed his scarf as close to his neck as he could. The coffee cup between his gloved hands was a godsend. Sips was hunched beside him, cheeks flushed after their first walk and the weather during it. Smith and Ross were messing about this time, less bothered about warmth than them, and trailed behind their more purposeful progress. The sky behind had turned an inky, dark shade, while ahead the clouds were yellowy again. The sun glowed through, wintry and low. Trott took a long swig of his drink, more concerned with getting warmth down his gullet and into his core than its temperature.

Trott shot a look across at Sips, whose head was similarly bowed against the elements. That fucking jumper. The collar peeked from the vee of where his jacket was fastened to. The colours could have blinded a lesser man. Trott scoffed at it, newly horrified at it. The other man must have heard him. 

"What, you don't like my jumper?" Trott didn't need to be looking at Sips to know he was smirking - he could hear it. He still did, caught the sparkle in his eyes.

"I would have ripped it off you already, but I didn't want you to freeze." 

"Well, I can think of a better reason to take it off - we do need to be back home, though." Sips' voice was dry.

"Not a problem." Trott smiled back, then started jogging. He turned himself, so he ended up running sideways, beckoning for Sips to increase his pace too, then held out his hand for the other man's. They ran the last few hundred yards in tandem, laughing as they tried not to spill their drinks too much. Trott fumbled with his keys, chuckling as Sips pressed himself along Trott's back, impatient and wanting warmth. Once inside, they stripped off their shoes, their jackets, Sips his cap and Trott his scarf and gloves, then rushed upstairs. 

Trott tugged off his tee, his jeans, his underwear, and backed away from Sips until he sprawled coquettishly with his legs slightly parted, one foot flat to the floor, the other resting on the bed with his knee bent up. Trott propped himself on his elbows, head tipped back slightly, watching in barely hidden glee as Sips fought to escape of his wool-acrylic blend monstrosity.

The look on Sips face when he finally was free was more than worth it. Sips hurried from his jeans and boxers, and rushed to kiss Trott, moving hotly against him, hands covetous. A little while later, Smith and Ross rushed in, indignant at them having started already, but their bodies falling in alongside, pressing as close as they possibly could, falling into place.


End file.
